The adventure continues
I am writing from the very tip of the teardrop that is Sri Lanka. The waves are crashing, the swell having travelled thousands of kilometres across the Indian Ocean.
On our morning walk, the street dogs, motorbikes and tuk-tuks felt familiar, the similarities to Indonesia and other parts of Asia clear. The road rules are written for the brave. It is called commitment, without fear.
As I look South, there is an Ocean all the way to Antarctica. I consider the sailors who left the sight of anything obvious, those early navigators who used the stars and winds to speak to them of their place in the world.
It is this shore that was decimated by the tsunami of 2004.
Tourism is booming. Backpackers and adventurers can come here and spend very little. It feels like the Bali of twenty years ago. The mish-mash of old, dilapidated with sprinklings of the new and trendy. All are woven together by the colonial history. First the Portuguese, then the Dutch and finally the British. A land of great Natural wealth, hollowed out by takers. And here we are again, the Westerners, our wealth able to offer livelihoods through tourism.
I continue to attempt to reconcile that, not sure if I will find peace inside over the next few weeks.
I am far from knowing the customs, of taking my role as a guest in another land.
This too, will take time.
I sit at the very end of the teardrop of Sri Lanka. Like all stories, there are tears, laughter, great beauty and struggle written into this land.
The adventure continues.
Photo Taken August 12th 2024
